They say your name shapes your destiny. But what if you were stuck with one that made every introduction a small act of courage? These ten people share the names their parents gave them — and the complicated feelings that came with them.
Palma
I was born in a tiny village where everyone had solid, traditional names. My family was full of Marys, Elizabeths, and Roses. To this day, I have no idea what inspired my parents — I asked them once, and they just shrugged — but somehow I ended up as Palma. I still don't know what to do with it. But I won't change it. My mother would never recover.
"My name is Bors. Yes — Bors."
My brother's name is Örs. My name is Bors. It's an old Hungarian male name, and nobody ever believes me when I introduce myself. The look on people's faces never gets old — though not in a good way.
The creative choice
My parents tried for years before I was finally born. So they named me — in what they clearly thought was a stroke of genius — Ajándék, which means "Gift" in Hungarian. My family calls me Csöpi, my parents call me "their little one," so thankfully nobody actually uses my real name. I'm counting my blessings.
Born in the wrong decade
I was born in the nineties, when parents were giving their kids fresh, modern names. And yet somehow I ended up as Jolán. I've hated it my entire life. Growing up surrounded by Sandras, Monicas, and Aggies, my name felt like it belonged to another century. And don't even get me started on the nickname "Jolika." I simply refuse to answer to it.
The name that needs a full explanation
My name is Kajetán. Nobody has ever heard of it. A significant portion of my life has been spent explaining it to people. "It comes from the Latin Gaetanus — it means 'a man from the city of Gaeta.'" I've said that sentence thousands of times. The most frustrating part? My brothers are called Peti and Zoli. They got perfectly normal names. I won the nightmare lottery.
Named after the wrong person
I still don't understand why my parents thought it was a good idea to name me after my alcoholic aunt — but here we are. I became Gizella. Growing up in the city, I constantly heard how "old-fashioned" and "peasant-like" my name was. Kids called me Gazelle, which they found hilarious. As a teenager, boys often thought I was making it up when I said my name was Gizi. A friend tried to console me by pointing out that supermodel Gisele Bündchen is basically a Gizi too. It didn't help much. And then there was the ex-boyfriend who thought it was funny to call me the G-spot.
The nickname that stuck forever
Following my father and grandfather, I too became Ernő. As a kid, there was a popular cartoon with a character called Turtle Ernő, and that's all it took — everyone started calling me Turtle. It eventually got shortened to just Turtle, and it stuck so hard that even my teachers used it. Honestly? I preferred it to Ernő. To this day, I introduce myself as Kovács Ernő — but tell people to just call me Turtle.
A telenovela in two words
My mother is a hopeless romantic, and somehow she convinced my very practical father to name me Carmen Esmeralda. To make things worse, Hungarian authorities at the time didn't allow foreign-style names unless they were spelled phonetically. So until my twenties, my official name was written as Kármen Eszmerálda — which is somehow even worse. To this day it sounds like the lead character in a Brazilian soap opera.
Always wanted to be a Vanessa
My official name is Gyopárka. My family calls me Gyopár, my friends call me Gyopi. If anyone can find something beautiful in this name, please let me know — because I never have. I always wanted to be a Vanessa. It sounds elegant, feminine, effortless. Instead, I'm Gyopár.
No.
I became Béla, just like my father. The name Béla already had its problems — classmates found endless ways to mock it throughout my childhood — but I could have lived with that. What I couldn't live with was sharing a name with my father, who is, without question, the most worthless person I have ever known. The moment I turned 18, I changed my name to my maternal grandfather's: András. And I've never looked back.
